


Just My Type

by ceaselesslyinlove



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Gaby is adorable, Illya is a awkward cinnamon roll, Kisses because we were deprived, Napoleon and Illya have a bromance, Napoleon is a gallya shipper, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceaselesslyinlove/pseuds/ceaselesslyinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Modern AU Coffee Shop/College two shot.  Russian exchange student Illya has a crush on Gaby the Barista.  Add in Napoleon the Gaby and Illya shipper and we got ourselves a needed fan fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute little AU that I hope you all enjoy. Plus I kind of like the idea of them as their younger selves in college. 
> 
> I wrote these characters to the best of my ability, as I have only seen the film once and I'm a little foggy on some parts of who they are. Still, I hope you like :)

_Present_

“This is absolutely pathetic.”

Illya ignores Napoleon as he takes one sip of the coffee and then hands it to him with a sound of disgust.  He would throw away the entire cup altogether if he didn’t watch Gaby work on it so happily and thoroughly.

“I mean, I don’t mind walking down with you, watching you mutter your way through your order because you’re too star struck over this girl, and then just handing me a coffee you paid for twice a week.  _I_ find it all worth it, but damn, I worry you’ll spend all your abroad money on coffee alone.”

Illya scoffs at that last comment, looking over to his American friend and his apparel.  Always dressed in suits and dress shoes, Illya doubts Napoleon has ever had money problems.  Not that he would know, in the course of the friendship, Napoleon has hardly ever opened up about his past. 

To be fair, neither has he.

_When he arrived in America the beginning of fall semester, a Russian exchange student, ready to take on NYU at best his ability, he wasn’t prepared at all for his roommate, Napoleon Solo.  A cocky, self-absorbed, lady’s man, Napoleon came back to the dorm late almost every night and was too social for his own good.  Their one similarity, their majors of Criminal Justice, gave them a few classes together, but it never gave them a good excuse to try and find some stability. They didn’t step off on the right foot, as Illya preferred to stay in on weekends and made it clear he detested Napoleon’s way of living._

_It wasn’t until a shocking moment when some idiot tried to mess with Illya that Napoleon stepped in and knocked the guy clean out.  A little stunned, Illya asked him why he did it…a little insulted because obviously Illya had control over the situation and was about to show said idiot just who he was messing with._

_“Someone’s gotta back you up here and I don’t know anyone else who will.”  Napoleon replied, rubbing his hand without glancing up._

_He had a point there._

_After that, Napoleon proved to also be loyal, trust-worthy, and a very amusing friend._

_He should have known gaining a friend at university would result in said friend finding out about his new secret._

 

 

 

_One month ago_

“Napoleon, you do not need to come allow.”

“Why not?  I’m bored and I want to see your secret study space.  It’s the one place you actually go to outside this campus.”

Illya sighs, already feeling he’s lost the fight as Napoleon throws on some expensive coat.  He imagines a pair of radiant brown eyes awaiting him just a ten minute walk away and he decides he can bear Napoleon’s teasing.

**

He thinks he may have made a mistake bringing Napoleon when they enter Triple Coffee, a sweet little café, and every woman (and a few men) give Napoleon a double take.  Refusing to glance over at the register, he goes to stand in the short line as Napoleon winks at a pretty blonde girl eyeing him.

“So, what’s good?” Napoleon asks, glancing at the menu.

“Americano,” Illya says, almost on instinct.  His friend makes a humph noise, shaking his head.

“I think I’ll go with the Chai Latte…”  Of course he would.

It’s then that the person in front of them moves to the side and he faces the one person who has the ability to make him appear an utter imbecile.

Gaby Teller.

“Hello, Illya,” she smiles that perfect smile and pulls out a medium coffee cup.  “Will it be the usual?”

He forgets English.  Her brunette hair is up in a high ponytail today, her bangs a little curled to give them a bounce.  She’s wearing her mandatory apron, but he can see she’s wearing one of her colorful dresses…orange today.  She’s still looking at him, raising a brow at his silence and he finally remembers how to speak.

“Yes.”

“Perfect,” she writes down his order and turns to Napoleon.  Illya tries to swallow down the jealousy as she eyes up his friend, giving him a once over before asking, “And you?”

“Medium Chai, darlin’” Napoleon says in that flirty voice that puts Illya’s teeth on edge.  To his relief, Gaby gives him an unimpressed look and writes it down.

He hardly knows how he pays (he ponders this every time…how he manages to pull out his wallet and get the right amount of cash while she’s standing there giving him the honor of her full attention).

He mutters a farewell after they get their coffees, leaving the building knowing that Napoleon will follow. 

“Delicious,” Napoleon declares after a swig of the brew, looking over to Illya with a look a confusion.  “Aren’t you going to drink yours?”

Illya sighs, not looking forward to this long confessional.  “No.”

“No?”

“I hate coffee.  You can have this if you want,” he holds out the drink to Napoleon, who looks at him in silence for a moment before he cracks a grin.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been coming here for the past couple of weeks, ordering a drink that you despise, just so you can mumble a few words to that barista?”

He laughs as Illya just stares, his silence confirmation enough.  Illya can’t tell him how (besides Napoleon) Gaby is probably the closest thing to a friend he’s had here.  She doesn’t mind his silence as she makes small conversation when he orders and he’s been here so often that when there’s a period of deadness in the café, she’ll come over and chat with him.  He lets her do most of the talking and he’s a good listener, especially to someone as interesting and beautiful as she is.

Napoleon, always so good at reading people, replaces the laugh with a soft gaze. 

“Why don’t you tell about her?”

He can do that.

She’s a British citizen, studying in America for the year.  A NYU student as well, she’s majoring in Criminal Justice (she’s a year below him, she explains when he had peaked up in confusion at their lack of classes together) with a minor in German.  Besides working at a coffee shop, she also helps out at her friend’s garage, as she’s an expert mechanic.  Along with the obvious beauty and kindness he’s attracted to, she is also strong and has a sharp tongue.  He listened to her have a heated debate with a girl named Victoria over some lesson they had…he had smirked as the blonde had stormed out of the shop, clearly having lost the battle.  She likes to tease him depending on the day, but it’s never mean and he finds himself smiling at her as she tries to mimic his accent.

He doesn’t quite say this word for word to Napoleon, but his friend is satisfied with his description, smiling as he takes a swig of his latte.

“She sounds incredible, Illya.  I’ll do my best to give you two your space in the future," although his tone says the complete opposite.

 

 

 

_Present_

Maybe he really is pathetic.

Over the past month, Napoleon has given them space, although he makes room in his schedule to accompany Illya down to Triple Coffee about twice a week, curious to see the growing relationship between him and Gaby.  It’s a disappointment to see that absolutely nothing has grown.  Illya still buys coffee he won’t drink and Gaby still just sees him as the strange Russian exchange student who likes to listen to her talk.

“She obviously likes you.”

Illya’s heart stops, but there’s a slight tease in his voice that makes him brush it off.

“Why say that?”

“I mean, she hardly gives me a glance when I’m there and any woman who chooses you over me clearly must be crazy about you.”

Illya throws a towel at him, smacking him straight in the face.

It’s a small victory.

**

It’s on a rather cloudy day in the city, when things change.

They’re sitting at his table in the corner.  He’s listening to Gaby talk about how difficult her German class is right now and he’s trying not to get lost in her eyes, when she suddenly stops talking.

“You know, we haven’t ever met up outside this café.”

He could swear she looks nervous, but it flickers away in a second.

“Yes,” he agrees, staring down at his untouched coffee and wondering where the hell this is going.

“Getting kind of old,” she hums thoughtfully, brushing a strand of loose hair away from her face.  “There’s a smoothie place right inside the entrance of Student Union.  Do you want to meet me there tomorrow?  I know you probably want to study, but it’s a Saturday and one of my few days off…”

“I’ll come,” he finds himself saying and he doesn’t regret his quick decision when she smiles at him.

“Meet you there in the evening tomorrow?”

He can only nod as she gets up and walks back to the counter.

(Napoleon is going to throw a damn party.)

And later on, that is exactly what Napoleon does, grabbing him in a tight hug and blasting some music, cheering out at window how is friend Illya has finally gotten some game.

If anything, Gaby has game.

**

On Saturday evening, Illya walks into the smoothie bar and finds the Gaby is already there, a shake in her hand.  She’s wearing a white and green dress and heels, looking way too dressed up for a college student on a Saturday.  She gives him a wave when she sees him and he gives a weak one, choosing to go over to the bar to get a drink and compose himself before he goes to her and becomes an idiot.

He gets some sort of berry shake and takes a long sip as he walks over to her, sitting down as she assesses him.  For what, he’s not entirely sure.

“Why did you invite me here?” Is the stupid question he decides to ask, and he tries to keep a steady composure as her brow arches delicately.

She avoids his question with a staggering statement.

“So you won’t drink my exquisite coffee, but you will drink a mediocre smoothie.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.  She continues.

“Your friend Solo came to the café yesterday, told me how much you adore me but hate coffee and what a terrible combination that is.  Then he gave me this.”

She pulls out a slip of paper containing his mobile number.

“Thought I would invite you somewhere other than a café, get a little proof for myself if you would drink something other than coffee with me.”

(He is going to kill Napoleon…slowly.)

“Is it true?”

She seems hesitant all of a sudden, peaking up at him as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Gaby…I truly believe your coffee is incredible, I just have never really liked the taste of it – ” He manages, fumbling on the words before she cuts him off.

“Not that, Illya.  Do you, um..do you like me?”

She blushes as she asks, looking away from him for a second as he processes her question.

How can she doubt him?  If anything, he should be the one questioning her affections, as he’s been rather confused on how she saw him.  Perhaps she’s been just as lost and confused as he’s been.

She looks back up to see his self-deprecating smile and laughs with a little relief and embarrassment.

“Good.  Good, that’s a good coincidence,” she blushes again and he grins.  “I guess we should be thanking Napoleon then?”

“Not before I give him little suffering for his control of my relationships.”

She takes his hand across the small table and her small hand in his fits perfectly.

 


End file.
